


Süssreserve

by Neonbat



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Come Drinking, Come Swallowing, Dom Hannibal, Gratuitous Smut, I don't even know how to tag some of this, Like wow what did I write, M/M, Minor gaping, Scenting, Webcammer Will, kinks ahead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 00:57:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14630691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neonbat/pseuds/Neonbat
Summary: After a series of mishandled relationships, Will is craving something different. He longs for connection without the dangers he's prone to digging himself into. It isn't long before a repeat customer becomes the all-consuming force he'd feared, but he ends up finding new depths to himself at the customer's hand. He can't say he's all that remorseful about it either.





	Süssreserve

**Author's Note:**

> Well. To be honest, I didn't think this would be the first fic I'd post to the Hannigram fandom. xD I have full length, serious plots outlined I swear but somehow this just took over.
> 
> I'm not that apologetic though ;D
> 
> Truthfully it isn't betaed because I put my poor betas through enough hahahhaa.

Truthfully, Will never meant to start this sort of _‘business.’_ It started with idle curiosity. A test of the human psyche mixed with equal parts boredom.

No.

That was a partial lie. The thrill of it had been a factor; he couldn’t deny that. Maybe it was because he never ‘dated’ well. He got too invested too fast. Too prone to taking on the damages of others and folding them into his own until he crumbled under the weight of all the combined scars. His meager handful of friends claimed empathy was a bitch, but Will had never thought of himself as overly empathetic…but perhaps he was wrong.

Sometimes getting into another’s headspace was easier than lingering in his own.

He’d been lonely. He was an introvert by nature, and a hermit by habit, but even he had needs. Luckily, the internet facilitated all. Watching pornography lacked the connection he desired, but he had no true desire for one-night stands either. The thought of meeting some stranger for sex was unappealing and even slightly terrifying. It would be offering up a level of trust in someone he wasn’t prepared to give without knowing them.

As most sites did, the porn site advertised. Cam models live and ready to chat. That had its own problems, because watching, he was just one username in the sea of many, and there was no connection there either.

One night’s curiosity led him to make a model account, and before he had time to think it through, he was already clicking ‘go live.’

Will wasn’t a warm man, not prone to flirting, but his customers were quick to realize that. The ones that wanted a man to giggle and coo at their lewd promises quickly left, leaving him with a more intense, but subdued crowd. Ones that complimented the wild flare of his dark hair, or the heavy black frames that sat on his nose.

Objectively, he knew himself to be attractive. He was in his prime at twenty-eight, finishing one in an endless sea of degrees, and perpetually half asleep because of it. He stayed relatively fit jogging with his dogs, and he never ate to excess. He was the type to pull a decent crowd at least, and his financial aid payments had been rejoicing ever since.

Being able to afford better quality dog food helped.

There was a regular, ‘devilinthedetails’ that had initially struck him. They were always polite, almost hilariously so. At first just another name in one of his paid chats, then paying for their own private chats weeks later. Their tastes were…exhilarating. Once requesting him to pose differently so they could see the contours of his muscles. Another time they wanted to simply watch him eat strawberries nude. Another to work himself open with classical music softly playing in the background.

A month into the private chats Will found out devilinthedetails was a man. A man with a voice like velvet.

He wanted will to call him ‘Sir,’ and never gave a name. And it was Sir that he came apart to over and over again as the man talked him through various ways to pleasure himself. All the while Will wished he knew a name to pant when his face was turned into his pillows, and his ass was bared to the screen of his laptop.

Will purchased a P.O box two months into his part-time job, and days later the first package from Sir came. How many times he’d come to the smart-phone controlled prostate toy he didn’t know. Sometimes Sir didn’t even want him to be on camera, but to wear it to class. He’d ruined two pairs of khakis and streaked the bathroom stall before Sir had taken mercy and promised not to turn it on during lectures.

And then the request came.

Will stared at his laptop where they were private messaging, gooseflesh rising on his skin from the fan whirring above. ‘I’m…sorry, what do you mean?’ He typed stupidly, unsure he’d read that right.

‘You would keep it in an airtight container, and once it was filled, mail it to me. I’d pay you generously.’

Will didn’t know what to think. He’d heard of people buying model’s underwear, socks, even jerseys, but this was a step into a realm he’d never conceived.

‘I’m not sure how long it would take.’

‘It would be worth the wait.’

Will swallowed, feeling heat creep underneath his skin. Could he really do that? It sounded so vulgar. Base. Another ding from his computer tugged his attention back to reality.

‘Does a thousand dollars sound sufficient?’

Once again Will was left staring. A grand for a jar full of—That was insane. But that was enough to help him with the down payment for a bigger place. A place with a backyard for the dogs to roam when he was in class.

Licking parched lips, Will replied, ‘Alright. I’ll…I’ll take videos along the way. As I…fill it.’ Then Sir would know he wasn’t cheating him out of his money.

‘Generous of you. I look forward to it.’ Will wished they conducted this conversation over voice chat; he wanted to hear the desire in the man’s voice.

 

* * *

 

“G-god. This is insane. Can you…can you see?” Will panted, gripping his cock with a low whimper as he pumped it slow. The tip of his cock brushed the rim of the mason jar he held near him with his left hand, the thick content sloshing lazily within.

“Yes, Will. I can see. Now add more to it. Come for me.” Sir’s voice was husky and deep, and Will earned for a face to pair with the voice. He’d established an intimacy with the man he’d never had with anyone else. Sir knew and had asked things of him none other had before. He’d brought out a new depravity in him, and there was no going back.

Will panted, resisting the urge to jerk his hips into his closed first, lest he risk spilling anywhere but into the jar slowly being filled with his ejaculate. He’d never masturbated this much in his life, but knowing that Sir requested this of him, and thinking of all the things he might do with it once the jar arrived…It lit a hunger in Will nearly ravenous.

“You’ve done so well for me, William. I’ll have to send you a special treat.” Sir purred, and Will lost the remains of his composure. He came into the jar, pumping out every last drop to layer it over the rest of his lewd collection.

His quiet groans didn’t stop until Sir’s cooed ‘Good boy’s turned into instructions to seal the jar once more.

Numbly, he complied, popping the tight seal over the mason jar once more and staring down at the milky contents in faint awe. “It’s…it’s nearly full.” If he hadn’t just come, knowing that might have spurred him to life. Will was looking forward to the day he could send the full jar to Sir.

Boldness struck him, and he turned to face the camera. “Can I…I want to see what you do with it.” He pressed, bright eyes suddenly fierce with desire. “I want to see you—Sir.”

Silence stretched a moment, dreadful and cavernous. Will was sure he’d pressed too far. Asked too much. More than the loss of money, he would mourn the loss of Sir’s company if he cut off all contact because of the request.

“That can be arranged.” Sir answered at length, a note of mirth in his voice.” Are you that eager to see me? You have been such a good boy. It would be a shame to disappoint you now.” Will’s pulse leaped into his throat, “I’ll show you when it’s time. For now, you should rest. You have class at seven, do you not?” When Will was so comfortable with Sir to tell him his entire class schedule, he didn’t know. It had happened so gradually over time it never struck him until now.

“Yes. Goodnight, Sir.”

“Goodnight, William.”

 

 

* * *

 

His heart was hammering in his chest the closer it crept to eight o’clock. Even though he was fully clothes and minorly exhausted from barely sleeping the night before, his whole body was hot all over. Sir had gotten his package and requested the meeting for tonight and Will gladly abandoned the meager plans he had for the night to accommodate.

Will couldn’t remember being this excited about anything for a long, long while. Apathy was an easy state to descend into when one closed off their world, afraid of letting others leak through his cracks and disrupt his foundation. It had happened so many times before, and Will struggled to recover every time.

But…He couldn’t deny he enjoyed the connection with Sir if one could call what they had a connection. Still, the line between client and performer was enough to keep the harsher realities of becoming entangled with another from him, so perhaps this really could work in his favour.

A ringing from his laptop startled him, and he dove to click ‘accept,’ irrationally afraid Sir would hang up before he could respond.

Their lines synced, and suddenly Will was looking at the man that had been his steady customer for the past four months.

Sir wasn’t at all what Will expected out of someone that visited the sort of site he broadcasted from. His brown hair was brushed back from an aristocratic face in a shining sweep. The lines of his dark burgundy suit were impeccable, cut to his solid, well-kept frame to magnify the set of his shoulders. He was at least ten, if not fifteen years older than Will, but where others would say ‘middle aged’ with derision, Sir carried it like an elegant coat on his shoulders.

But more than that. Will recognized him.

“…Professor Lecter?” He breathed, staring at the faintly amused face of his World Literature Professor. Lecter had a special area studying the psychology of attraction within the world of the arts, and his classes were nothing but _enlightening,_ to say the least. He commanded an effortless grace in front of a sea of older grad students, possessing the ability to capture wandering thoughts and tug them mercilessly back towards his lectures with a simple look.

“Hannibal, Please.” Professor Lecter chuckled low and deep that sent a fresh tendril of hot lust through Will’s veins. The entire time he’d been getting off to the sound of a man’s voice, he should have recognized but marrying the two had been too fanciful for him to entertain.

 Will floundered, torn between questions and staring at the singular crystal wine glass set next to Hannibal’s folded hands, and the jar containing the fruits of Will’s labour. Will’s eyes widened, mouth abruptly dry.

Hannibal’s dark eyes danced with amusement, “I must admit. I was surprised when I saw your feed go live the first time. I recognized you. The brooding Will Graham that always sits in the same spot, dutifully typing notes.” His eyes swept down the length of Will’s body, “How pleasant it was to see you in new lights.”

Will felt himself growing hard under cover of his dark sweatpants. “Do—Do you frequent that site often?”

“Mm, on occasion. Sexuality is my profession, after all.” That laugh as thick and sweet as syrup again. It made Will ache.

“And you never thought to say anything?” How could Hannibal look at him every Tuesday and Thursday without seeing him as he was during their sessions?

Hannibal reached to neatly pull his suit jacket from himself and drape it over the back of his antique high-backed chair, leaving him in a solid blue button up that stretched alluringly against his broad chest. “If you didn’t recognize me by my voice, I felt it more appropriate. Then afterward, I must admit—I enjoyed it. Seeing you in class, then seeing you at night, writhing on my commands.” The man’s eyes sharpened, and a darker, more indulgent smile quirked his lips. “It was cruel of me, I know. But the first day you wore the remote-control plug to my class, I enjoyed watching the sweat bead on your brow every time I pressed the controls.” That had been the day the normally meandering path of the Professor stayed rooted behind his podium, quietly delighting in increasing the intensity on his smartphone that controlled the plug fixed between Will’s cheeks.

Will’s cheeks heated as he recalled that day. The desperation of it. Hannibal had been watching him the entire time he leaked steadily into his khakis, rock hard and face flushed with fever.

“Has anyone told you, you’re a sadist, Hannibal?” His breath was already airy, heavy with a new desire the longer Hannibal talked.

“On occasion,” Hannibal smirked, rolling up his sleeves with practiced, careful pleats. “I didn’t think you would agree to this.” He admitted, reaching to grasp the jar of milky liquid he’d warmed in hot water before logging on.

It was madness to keep doing this now that Will knew who Hannibal was, but that didn’t keep him from pulling off his shirt and throwing it to the ground over the side of his bed. “I wouldn’t have, normally. But you are nothing but convincing.”

A note of pleasure leaked into Hannibal’s expression, and his hand fell over the mason jar top to pop it open.

“What did you want that— _Me_ for, Hannibal?” Will asked, reaching down to palm the tent of his pants with a fluttered breath.

Hannibal’s eyes flicked back to him as the jar top was placed on the polished wood desk. Handel played in the background, and distantly Will heard the crack of a fireplace.

Hannibal brought the jar to his face, leaning just barely to scent the pooled slick below. “There is a small-known condition called Hyperosmia.” Will could barely make out the small shudder that danced down Hannibal’s back, but it was there. “Often caused by some medications or drugs, but there are individuals, such as myself, naturally born with what one might call an acute sense of smell.” Another sniff and Hannibal’s breath hitched. “Coupled with Hypergeusia, you could say my senses are well above the norm.”

Hannibal brought the jar down and tipped half of its thick contents into the crystalline wine glass. Hannibal’s pupils were blown wide, and Will could do nothing but stare dumbly as Hannibal carefully recapped the remains in the jar and set it aside.

“The combined conditions have led to a curious interest.” Hannibal picked up the glass, swirling Will’s ejaculate with a slow roll of his wrist. “Whereas others with Hypergeusia find bitterness to be unpalatable, I find it quite the opposite. Not many know the individual notes that make up a person’s saliva, sweat, or ejaculate—But I could tell you, every one.” He dipped one poised index finger within the contents, drawing up a sticky line that glimmered against his digit.

Will watched transfixed as Hannibal brought his finger to his lips, accepting the slickness onto his tongue with a sound akin to euphoria. A bead of precum leaked into the lining of Will’s sweatpants and a quiet whimper left him wanting.

Hannibal sighed, eyes drifting closed a moment to savour the taste of Will on his tongue. “You favour pomegranates?” The inquiry received an astounded gasp.

“How? Yes. I’ve been eating them recently for the vitamins.” Will replied. There were often gaping holes in his dietary habits, but he’d been making a vague attempt lately.

Hannibal hummed a note, regarding the glass once more. “Bare yourself to me Will.” The command snapped Will right back to the insistence of his groin, and he hurried to comply. “You may call me by my name if it pleases you.”

Pants shed, Will perched on the bed on his knees, letting Hannibal see the bob of his erection already so interested in the proceedings. “Yes, Hannibal.”

“Good boy.” Hannibal grinned, sweeping his eyes over the length of Will’s body once more. “You’ve done so well for me. Did you get my package as well?” Will nodded, “Good. Get it.”

Will retrieved the unopened box from his bedside and set it before him, looking for permission to open it before tearing into it. Within it nestled a fat, bulbous plug, and a plaid square of silk Will recognized as one of the handkerchiefs Hannibal wore tucked into the pocket of his suits. Slowly, he brought the handkerchief to his nose, sniffing. Hannibal’s cologne was distinct, rich and full-bodied like a well-aged wine. Under the hints of spice in the cologne, there was another scent, headier, seedier. The faint stain against the silk ripped away the last vestiges of control from him, and he shuddered hard into palming his hand over his aching groin once more.

“Not yet.” Hannibal’s stern voice froze his movements, Will’s whole-body shivering under the effort of not touching himself. “Put it on.” Will’s eyes fell back to the thick plug, and he nodded.

Setting the stained silk aside was a physical effort, but Will managed, conscious of Hannibal’s eyes following every movement he made as he stretched to retrieve the lube from his bedside. It would take longer than Will wanted to wait to work himself open enough to take the plug, but Hannibal wanted this. Wanted to see the effort. Wanted to tease him further.

Will positioned his laptop in front of him as he leaned back against the pillows, wiggling down on the bed so the computer was between his spread legs.  Months ago, this sort of position would have filled him with shame, but Hannibal had trained him well. His cock leaked a fresh dribble of dew down its length as he canted his hips to give Hannibal the perfect view.

“Exquisite.” Hannibal marveled at him as if he was divinity made flesh.

The first touch of slick fingers against his wanting hole was sweet torture. Will did cursory prep before every meeting, anticipating Hannibal’s hunger for him, but he hadn’t delved more than two fingers in his hurry to finally see ‘Sir’s’ face.

Will’s eyes swept back to the laptop, meeting Hannibal’s as he worked free fingers into himself, shuddering a sigh as the slickness filled him. Eye contact was a fickle thing. It wasn’t something Will enjoyed at the best of times, but meeting Hannibal’s was—an experience.

Hannibal had a weight to his eyes that Will felt physically. Beyond words, beyond touch, Hannibal’s eyes flayed him open to the bone, peering into every crevasse. Usually, it was Will that fell so boldly into a person so deeply he couldn’t find his way out, but at this moment, Will had no question that Hannibal was inside of him in a way direct contact couldn’t compare.

“That’s it, William,” Hannibal’s deep voice caressed his skin.

“Wh…why do you call me William?” Everyone he knew called him simply Will, no one else, not even his parents, called him by his full name.

Hannibal smirked, the amusement returning to his striking visage. “I think you know the answer to that.”

Of course. No one else called him William. He should have known Hannibal had a possessive streak, off-putting in most, but flattering from him. Hannibal operated by a different set of rules than the rest of the status quo entirely.

The fourth finger joined, and Will groaned, pumping in and out of himself with increasing urgency.

“Slower.” Hannibal wouldn’t allow him that mercy and a quiet protest puffed past his lips. “You would do as I say, wouldn’t you William? Have I guided you wrong yet?” No, he hadn’t, but Will could still be annoyed at having to be made to suffer.

“Open yourself to me.”

Will swallowed, fingers slipping free momentarily so that he could coat the tips of his left hand in lube as well. His legs raised, hands reaching down to cup his backside and delve his index and middle fingers into his stretched hole and spread himself apart.

A rosy blush darkened on his skin as he watched Hannibal gaze into him in a way so new, so lewd.

“Perfection.” Hannibal breathed, raising the wineglass to his lips, and for the first time, he tasted completely. Hannibal drew in an appreciative sip, a tasting of wine to swirl around his tongue and fill his palate with Will’s flavor.

“H-Hannibal…Please. I want, I want to see you.” Now that he knew who Hannibal was, Will wanted more.

Hannibal’s quiet chuckle was followed by the sound of him setting his glass down. “Impatient William, I’ll need to teach you properly one day.” Will could only imagine what discipline would be like under Hannibal’s physical  guiding hand. “Prepare yourself. Then I will reward you.”

Spurred on by the promise, Will lowered his legs long enough to grope for the lube once more, grasping the bottle in slick hands to pour out another messy measure onto his palm. The plug was coated liberally, and even still it felt too substantial. He would feel this rooted in him no matter the position and was likely to feel it for days after. But that’s probably exactly what Hannibal wanted.

As he positioned the plug against his entrance, he watched as Hannibal stood in the frame of the computer, the bulge against his finely tailored trousers evident.

The press of the plug stretched Will beyond what he’d experimented with so far, and he feared he wouldn’t be able to accommodate the girth. Hannibal purred an encouraging ‘Relax’ over the pounding of his heart, and Will sank down deeper over the plug with a thready sigh.

It slid into place with a wet squelch, and Will keened fresh and desperate. It hugged his insides mercilessly, shoving the tip of itself against his prostate with mind-numbing efficiency. It was like Hannibal had known him inside and out already without ever touching him. Known what he needed. _Craved_.

The sound of Hannibal popping his polished button to his pants snapped Will back to the mortal plane. Even Hannibal’s undergarments were as refined as he was, clinging blue silk that left little to the imagination. It felt like an eternity before Hannibal fully bared himself, but it was well worth the wait.

Will’s eyes fell hungrily on Hannibal’s flushed length, the plug snug within him suddenly feeling like not nearly enough.

“You’ve been very good Will; I think it is time for both our reward. Wouldn’t you say?” Hannibal reached out to dip his fingers within the wine glass once more, coating his right hand in Will’s slick. Once his hand was glistening, Hannibal returned it to his length, sighing low as he pumped Will’s gathered seed along himself.

Will was almost afraid to touch himself as he watched Hannibal coat his erection without restraint. Everything Hannibal did was with such an air of confidence that Will found himself effortlessly swept along. He spared a brief second to wipe his hand off against a towel and snatched the handkerchief from the box once more.

The first rush of Hannibal’s scent against his nose felt like a drug hit, and his hand snapped to his groin, reaching to grasp himself with a soul-deep groan.

“Enjoying my gift?” Hannibal teased softly, even as he used his free hand to take another measured taste from the wine glass. His length twitched in his grip as he swallowed the mouthful, leaking pre as the wash of flavours hit his tongue once more.

 “You enjoy…perverting me don’t you?” Will huffed a faint laughed, pressing the soiled silk against his skin. “I wasn’t like this before you.” The twin sounds of their flesh sliding against flesh filled Will’s small bedroom, a salacious duet.

“Weren’t you? My dear, I barely pressed at all.” The pet name sounded delectable on Hannibal’s fine tongue.

Will dug his heels into the bed, thrusting his hips up into the tunnel of his hand. The plug reasserted itself within him every time his buttocks clenched, sending a fresh jolt digging into his depths with each jerk of his hips. “Y-you’re a convincing man. Hannibal Lecter.”  
  
He wouldn’t last long like this, too worked up from the new sensations bombarding him. Seeing Hannibal, knowing the man was consuming his essence like a rich wine, the handkerchief. It was all too much.

“Come for me William; I want to see you come apart.” Hannibal urged, lowering the quarter-full glass down as he stroked himself. “I want to hear you.”

The last bit of propriety left him, and Will pressed the silk back over his nose, rutting into his hand with abandon. His orgasm hit him like a physical blow, and he shouted, likely waking his dogs sprawled out in the living room in the process. He spilled liberally over his hand, drops raining down on his abdomen and stomach alike as he whimpered and writhed through the sweet agony of his peak.

A minute later in the blissful tides of his afterglow, he was gifted with the sight of seeing Hannibal empty himself into the wine glass, layering himself over Will that somehow felt more perverse than all other acts of debauchery they’d done this night.

“J-jesus Hannibal.” Will gasped, tongue peeking out to wet his lips. “Are you--?” His question was answered as soon as the last drop slid down the crystal to join the sticky pool below. Hannibal made sure Will was watching him before the glass was raised poised to his lips, and he drank deep, emptying the contents with a hypnotizing bob of his Adam's apple and a moan so sinful Will wished he’d recorded the session.

Even an hour after they’d said their goodbyes, Will felt electrified. Hannibal had smirked a wicked, ‘Don’t forget your assignment’ before logging off, knowing full well they would see each other tomorrow in class.

Will cleaned and righted himself for bed, but only after drawing out an old favorite to his bedside table for tomorrow. He hoped Hannibal still had the app still installed on his phone, but Will was sure a quick email with a picture taken in the bathroom a few minutes before class would encourage Hannibal to download it again. Sometimes, Will had to break his own rules.

**Author's Note:**

> For more updates and excerpts head to my tumblr at : http://neonbat666.tumblr.com/ and search #Neon-writes or #Neon Writes


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